One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest
by Rae Logan
Summary: This has not been a good weekend for QuackerJack. If he wasn't already crazy, he'd probably lose it.


Heh, well, would you look at that? Looks like I've made my first non-Sonic fanfiction in over 11 years. A branch out was long overdue, and I felt like doing something based on a series I've been revisiting lately.

Fun fact, actually, Darkwing Duck was a cartoon I loved a kid, but the availability of episodes was scarce back in the day. Even now, we only have the first two seasons of three on DVD (last release was in 2007), so it seems that it's a bit of a tricky one to rewatch. Also, there's some comics... Which were good but got canceled. Yikes

Anyway, please go ahead and let me know what you think of this rather random idea that ended up way longer than I had originally planned. I've been doing quite a bit of character dissecting, hoping I got the portrayals well enough. Remember, I just barely got back into the series about a month ago..

* * *

The setting is St. Canard, nighttime. One particularly foul duck was slinking about, holding onto a small, glass vial, smirking and snickering to himself.

He had come up with his latest scheme in making Darkwing Duck's life miserable for the next few days. Next few weeks, even. He had done the research to be absolutely certain he had considered all contingencies; he wasn't in the mood to kill him, simply just watch him suffer for a while, just because he could.

Negaduck was in a playful mood, after all.

The plan was simple. Just lure Darkwing to him, and once in range, **WHAMO!** , Negaduck would throw the vial at him.

Sure, it seemed, when you really say it, somewhat of a weak payoff for the build up, but it was what was _in_ the vial that was important. It was a relatively mild strain of influenza he had pilfered from a local laboratory, one that was easily contained by a simple flu vaccine, but just potent enough to resemble a bad head cold.

The plan was very simple; infect Darkwing, then enjoy at least one week of uninterrupted crime spree while the stupid duck was too busy keeping out of the public eye, likely not wanting to bruise his ego or give the impression that he was less than invincible to the citizens.

Picking up a hefty brick that lay conviently on the rooftop of where he was currently hiding, Negaduck readied himself and took aim at a window he intended to trip the alarm for, but not before becoming faintly aware of the noise of a distant purr of an engine that was spewing gas scented fumes into the night air, accompanied by the familiar maniacal laughter of a certain toy maker, and another roar of a different, also familiar engine, just as QuackerJack bounded into view on his gas powered pojo stick, with Darkwing and his sidekick not far behind in the Ratcatcher.

Wondering briefly if luck was in his favor tonight, Negaduck quickly retracted that thought when a well aimed grappling hook caught the pojo stick and yanked it out from under QuackerJack just as he was airborne, sending the confused and startled costumed clown through the air with a cry, and directly his way.

Before Negaduck had time to rev up and run, the tall, colorful duck smashed into him, sending several things flying, one of which was the vial, and the others were the ridiculous things QuackerJack carried with him at all times.

Negaduck was too preoccupied with the fact that he was being, for lack of a better term, "crushed" under the dead weight of the larger dazed duck, who had a deceivingly thin frame under the ridiculously puffy costume, and was shaped, at best, like a butternut squash.

QuackerJack seemed like he hadn't noticed whom he had crashed into, though Negaduck was already considering giving the oblivious bird a throttling once the foul fowl had realized the vial he had been holding mere seconds ago, was now gone.

"Mr. Banana Brain!" QuackerJack shouted suddenly, not even looking down at the duck he was on top of, especially when he slammed his hands to what he thought was the ground in a panic and shoved himself up to run to the other side of the rooftop to scoop up the doll, effectively knocking the wind out of Negaduck for a second time in the span of two minutes. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, I-I can fix that, it's not as bad as it looks, buddy, t-trust me!"

QuackerJack was referring to a slight tear in the cloth doll that was letting some of the sawdust inside come trickling out. QuackerJack then clenched his teeth and made a small coughing noise in higher voice, which belonged to said doll.

Negaduck rolled his eyes and pushed himself up from the ground, dusted himself off, and quietly reached behind him to produce his beloved chainsaw, intending on revving it up and give it a few swings in the air, just enough to scare the clown away.

" _... Where's your hat, Matt?_ " Chimed the higher voice in a softer tone than QuackerJack's own loud one, as the duck was gently prodding the tear in the fabric with a shaky hand.

QuackerJack gasped harshly, flinging the hand that wasn't holding Mr. Banana Brain to the top of his head and screamed when all he felt were his feathers.

"Hat! Hat! Where's my hat!" He squawked, clutching the doll to his chest. He twisted his head about frantically as he scanned the rooftop for his beloved hat, not even registering that he had locked eyes with Negaduck not once, not twice, but thrice. The smaller duck was now leaning forward against his propped chainsaw, blade side down, like one would with a low, retaining wall. QuackerJack was on the verge of tears. "Oooh, I feel so... so... _exposed_ without it!"

He found the hat within seconds, just inches from Negaduck's webbed feet. QuackerJack squealed with joy and swiped it from the ground, brushing off the pieces of glass stuck to it.

"Well, one crisis averted, but we'd better get back to home base." QuackerJack told the doll, giving the hat another shake before putting it on his head with a wide grin. "You need stitches and I'm gonna hafta wash my hat now, it's got some junk on it, and hi, Boss, I was just-!"

QuackerJack cut himself off with a strangled squeak, clamping his beak shut so hard, his prominent buck teeth weren't visible. If not for his hat, one might have seen his white plumage impossibly lose a shade or two.

" _... I think we're screwed, Drew..._ " Mr. Banana Brain piped up weakly, despite QuackerJack's mouth being completely sealed.

QuackerJack's eyes were wide and round, and he clutched Mr. Banana Brain defensively in trembling arms.

He was alone with Negaduck, in the middle of the night, and by the looks of the scuffed and battered state of his clothing, QuackerJack must have landed on him. Negaduck glared before grinning wickedly, and gripped the cord of his chainsaw.

"How nice of you to drop in, clown." He growled.

 _Of all the rooftops, of all the ducks, of all the places, why here, why him, why, why, why, why, why, why, why?_

A blue smoke bomb deployed between the two ducks, startling them both that they stared briefly for a few seconds, enough so that Negaduck lost grip of the chainsaw, and it hit the ground with a _CRASH!_ "

"I am the terror, that flaps in the night!"

QuackerJack was not in the mood to deal with both Darkwing _and_ Negaduck. He needed to get Mr. Banana Brain somewhere safe and tended to. Post-adrenaline rush was setting in, and if he didn't act fast, he'd likely be captured and poor, poor Mr. Banana Brain would suffer from his ineptitude.

As Darkwing readied his next, often varied, part of his entrance speech, QuackerJack took the moment of theatrics to book it out of there, putting to use his acrobatic skills to scale between the two buildings by wall jumping down, and taking long strides to pace himself as he threw his tire popping jacks behind him for good measure, should the Ratcatcher head this way.

As you've probably noticed, there was a reason for the glass he had found on his hat.

* * *

He had run on foot for a good solid five minutes before he was confident enough that he hadn't been tracked. However, it seemed that in his panic, he was in the wrong district, the wrong side of town, and had ran _away_ from his base of operations.

" _... I think we've lost our way, Clay..._ " Mr. Banana Brain chimed in a small voice, wiggling a bit under QuackerJack's fingers.

"No, no, I know where we are, we're not lost." QuackerJack said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, panting between every other word. "See, that's the lighthouse at Beaker's Point, we're near Megavolt's place!"

What luck, Megavolt was a friend, a real friend he could trust who wasn't going to, pardon the pun, rat him out. He was certain that, by the faint glow of blue at the top of the lighthouse, that Megavolt was home and awake at this time of night.

Sure enough, once he rang the doorbell, he saw a familiar face cautiously lean out the window way way up above, which disappeared and then followed by various sounds of one tripping over things and stomping down a set of stairs.

"Quacky, do you have any idea what time of the night this is? I just put my bulbs to sleep, and _you_ woke them up!" Megavolt wrenched the door open and whispered almost furiously at him, but stopped barating him when he saw the forlorn and terrified expression QuackerJack had while gripping his trusted doll tightly in his hands.

"... Mr. Banana Brain had an accident, and... and... I th-think I made Negaduck really, really, mad at me..." he whimpered, holding up his doll in both hands, showing then damaged side.

Megavolt jolted in shock and quickly grabbed the colorfully dressed bird's wrist and dragged him inside, slamming the door shut, then proceeded to flip the many locks adorning the edge of it, finishing with a simple bolt-and-chain lock for what probably seemed like good measure.

"Negaduck? Y-ya-you idiot, if he was angry with you, then why did you come here instead of your-your- _your_ hideout!" The electric rat stammered furiously, sparks emmiting from his plug hat.

"... Megs, please... Mr. Banana Brain..." QuackerJack didn't seem to comprehend the anger he had ignited, and simply craddled his fruit headed doll, one hand pressed to the tear in the fabric, a light dusting of sawdust littering the floor at his feet.

Megavolt stared at him, taking mental note of how distraught and weary the duck appeared, which was a far cry from his usually crazed and arguably playful manner. The rat rubbed at his goggles in frustration with a gloved hand, pulling down on his face before letting go, causing an audible noise as his snout sprung back into place.

"Fine, follow me, but _be quiet._ " His nasally voice sounded through gritted teeth. "Everyone's asleep."

He was referring to his electronics, which he honestly believed had personalities, and had spent the last hour trying to settle down the small light bulbs he had recently rescued from a hardware store, the poor dears restrained in plastic prisons hung up on pegboards for who knows how long.

"... Please, I need thread..." QuackerJack mumbled numbly, following after Megavolt up the winding staircase to the top of the lighthouse.

"What about yourself, you seem a bit worse for wear as well."

QuackerJack hadn't even taken the time to check himself over, but could see a small scuff on his large beak in his field of vision. He was faintly aware of the soreness of his muscles, perhaps from having ran so fast, so far in so little of time, but likely from his collision with Negaduck. His precious hat's bells jingled with each step, and he couldn't remember it being this long of a staircase the last time he had dropped in for a visit.

"... Yellow thread, it needs to be yellow..." He responded to the rat after Megavolt had paused in climbing the stairs to look at him.

"Alright, alright, but it might help if you tell me what happened to get yourself in this mess."

"Mr. Banana Brain needs help first, we can talk about me later." QuackerJack snapped irritatably. "Do you have any disinfectant?"

"... For you?"

"No, for Mr. Banana Brain! He's the one who's bleeding out!"

"... He's not-" Megavolt started to interject before realizing just who he was talking to, said individual was glaring at the rat, seemingly on the verge of frustrated tears. "Uh... He's not as bad as it looks, I'm sure. He's still talking to you, right?"

"... Has there always been this many stairs?"

"It's the same amount as always, Quacky." Megavolt rolled his eyes and gestured ahead. "The door's just around this corner, we'll get you both patched up faster than you can say... Uh... something fast."

"... You do have thread, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course, of course." The rat sighed and finally was able to open the door, which he hurried into the living quarters and pulled the colorful duck in behind him, then locked the door behind them. "Just sit over there, and please be quiet, it's past thier bedtime." Megavolt gestured to the couch, then to the various, immobile appliances that sat on the other side of the common room area.

QuackerJack nodded numbly, sat on the couch he had been pointed to, and turned Mr. Banana Brain on his uninjured side as an attempt to keep the sawdust from spilling even more. Megavolt was digging though a cabinet before pulling out a spool of thread and a pack of needles.

"Now, what was this for again..?" Megavolt's memory shorted for a second before it kicked back when he saw his guest on the couch. "Oh, right, repairs. Here you go."

"... Disinfectant?"

"Everything's already sterilized." The rat said wearily, knowing there was no way he could get around this without playing along. As far as the duck knew, Mr. Banana Brain was about as real as anything, but Megavolt figured that getting the sawdust moist would later lead to the wood bits breaking down and putrifying.

QuackerJack gave him a hard stare before snatching the stitching tools from him, and getting to work. Being a toy maker by craft, repairing a doll was no problem for him, it was simply that he didn't see the doll as a mere doll, so this entire ordeal was far more stressful than it should have been.

After a tense, silent ten minutes, QuackerJack set the needle down, and lifted the doll to his ear, frowning a little.

"So, is he-?"

"Shh!" QuackerJack held his free hand up, pointing upward, shushing him. "I'm listening."

Megavolt huffed impatiently, rolled his eyes and turned to his recently aquired lightbulbs.

"He's going to be okay!" The duck shouted suddenly, jumping up and, much to Megavolt's annoyance, he skipped and twirled about the room with joy.

"Hey, watch it!" Megavolt shouted back, just as QuackerJack lost his footing and toppled backwards, wearing a look of complete confusion on his face.

"Wha!" QuackerJack managed in the shock, Mr Banana Brain slipping from his fingers and hitting the ground with an audible **FWOMP** , several feet away.

It was unusual for QuackerJack to not bounce a bit when hitting the floor, and this was certainly one of those unusual times.

"... Help me up, will ya?" QuackerJack was on his back and stuck a hand in the air, then waved it about. "... That was... wierd. I've gotten dizzy from far longer and larger spins..." He grabbed Megavolt's outstretched hand and pulled himself to his feet, frowning ever so slightly. "... It's been a rough night." He said as if that answered everything.

Megavolt picked up the doll from the floor and handed it to QuackerJack.

"So, what exactly happened, Quacky?"

"By the looks of it, I tripped."

"No, I mean out there with Negaduck." Megavolt shook his head. "I know he scares the snot out of us just being around, but how'd you managed to get yourself into that problem?"

QuackerJack launched into explaining every detail of his escapade, from when he had attracted Darkwing Duck's attention during another scheme at trying to make his toys the top of the competition (attempting to sabotage yet more Whiffle Boy merchandise that was slated for release later this week), the escalation of everything leading to partially collapsing a warehouse that he wasn't entirely sure of he was completely at fault for that, making a getaway on his pojo-stick, being pursued clear across town, having said pojo-stick yanked out from under him, and slamming into Negaduck in a full on bodily collision.

"-Mr. Banana Brain must have taken the worst of the hit, because he was the one who needed stitches!"

"I wonder what Negaduck was doing on a rooftop at this time of night?" Megavolt mused aloud.

"I didn't bother to ask, I was busy trying to get the heck out of dodge." QuackerJack shrugged wearily. "And I certainly wasn't going to stick around once Darkwing showed up, I'm not _that_ crazy!"

Whatever amount of irony in the statement was lost on himself, but the electric rat snorted quietly in amusement.

"Well, in any case, you can crash here for the night."

"... Doesn't Darkwing already know this is where you stay?"

"Yeah, but I haven't done anything for a couple of days, he's not going to be coming here to look for you, or at least it's one of the last places he'd think to look."

QuackerJack gave a skeptical frown, but that faded when he thought it over and realized that he appreciated the gesture. After all, it had been a tiring last couple of hours, and absolutely nerve wracking until he had been able to tend to Mr. Banana Brain. The post adrenaline rush was kicking in, and he honestly doubted if he could sneak back through the other side of town to get to his hideout before running into Darkwing Duck again, and doubted even more so that he'd have the energy to participate in another game of "Cat and Mouse" this night.

He'd stay here for the night, and head out once the dust cleared.

* * *

Of course, it wasn't as easy as he thought it was going to be.

The following morning, QuackerJack was surprised to find that he didn't feel rested much at all, and on top of that, he appeared to have a bout of nasal congestion that forced him to keep his mouth half open so he could breathe properly.

The listless atmosphere he gave off did not go unnoticed, and Megavolt expressed concern as soon as he realized QuackerJack had not so much as done one acrobatic twirl before sitting down wearily at the flimsy metal framed fold out table Megavolt had set up several feet from the sink in the small "kitchen", then placed his head on his folded arms, that he had placed in front of him in an attempt to get more comfortable.

This was very unusual, and considering what he knew about the colorful clown duck, Megavolt was even more concerned when QuackerJack only responded with a shrug and a "... Hrmph...", not even looking up at him.

Megavolt slammed his hands down on the table, causing it to shake from the action, and making QuackerJack flinch finally. The duck looked up, tired and worn, and said in an uncharacteristically small voice: "... The vibrations make my head hurt... Please don't..."

Megavolt blinked.

"You're acting wierd this morning, what's with you?"

"... Megs, you know I'm not normal, you'll have to be more specific than just 'wierd'..."

"Well, for one, you haven't so much as giggled this morning."

"... Haven't I..?" QuackerJack looked genuinely confused. There was something very troubling about QuackerJack being unsure of himself, as, even at his most loony, he knew exactly what he wanted to do and how to do it. A coherent lunatic, if you will. "... Is it hot in here, or is that my imagination..?"

Megavolt's concern skyrocketed into full blown apprehension. In the time that he'd known QuackerJack personally, he knew that the wildly spirited duck would have been standing on the chair by now, casually juggling sauce and syrup bottles while holding a polite conversation with him about his next toy related scheme. Perhaps even cartwheeling around the couch without so much as a hitch in his breath, or bouncing excitedly in place, just itching to get the day started with more goofy, if not questionably legal, shinanigans.

Yet, here he was, sitting slouched in the metal folding chair, head on the table, face flushed across the upper bridge of his large bill, staring at him with a sort of unfocused, weary look in his eyes.

"... You're sick."

QuackerJack scoffed quietly.

"... Megs, none of us are very stable-"

"No, I mean you've caught something, and now you're sick." Megavolt interrupted. "Ill. Under the weather. Green around the gills."

"... I don't have gills, I'm a duck." QuackerJack missed the point entirely, shaking his head.

"You're not going anywhere today, you're staying here." Megavolt didn't seemed phased.

"I can't stay here!" QuackerJack shouted, the loudest he'd been all morning. "There's things to do, and besides, I didn't pack to have an extended stay! I didn't bring anything but the clothes on my back and-!" His eyes widened suddenly, and he looked positively distraught. "Mr. Banana Brain! I haven't heard a single thing from him since last night! Do you think he's alright!"

To be perfectly honest, Megavolt had forgotten all about the "injury" Mr. Banana Brain had sustained the prior night, and it took him a good while of wracking his brain to bring up memory as to why QuackerJack would be so concerned about the strange doll.

By the time Megavolt remembered that QuackerJack had to restitch the doll in a panic last night, he was vaguely aware that the duck was no longer at the table and was feverishly pulling the cushions off the couch, before he attempted to flip it over to look underneath, but was doing so poorly. Whether that was due to the presumed illness or the fact that QuackerJack's arms were about as muscular as a yearling tree's branches, or some combination of both, it wasn't too obvious.

"You're gonna throw your back out, you know that, right?"

QuackerJack responded with a low despondent wail of misery, which Megavolt could make out the rhythm of something to the effect of "talking", "banana", and "missing"

"Quacky, calm down and check your waistband."

QuackerJack hesitantly reached for it, and found, much to his astonishment, that Mr. Banana Brain had indeed been with him the whole time.

"... B-but I didn't _hear_ him!" He managed after a good ten seconds of angry and confused sputtering. "He's _never_ been this quiet for this long! Do you think he's mad at me, Megs!"

Megavolt had a pretty solid explanation figured as to why the banana headed doll wasn't speaking to QuackerJack, but decided against it as he felt that the sick jester was already agitated enough as it was.

"... Why would you think he's mad at you?" Megavolt said instead, wordlessly reassembling the couch.

"I don't know! He's the moody one!"

A small spark popped off of the rat's whiskers as he blinked.

"Well, maybe he's got what you got? The both of you are practically joined at the hip." Megavolt attempted to humor him a little, picking his words carefully, as it was generally unwise to suggest that Mr. Banana Brain was nothing more than a sawdust filled doll that QuackerJack merely projected upon regularly.

"... Oh. That would make sense, wouldn't it?" QuackerJack said before he was grabbed by the back of his shirt and dragged back into the couch. "H-hey!"

"You're staying here."

"I _told_ you, I can't-!" QuackerJack's words were cut off by a sudden overly dramatic coughing fit, his hat appearing to convulse with each hack. He held a hand up in a half-hearted pointing gesture, nonverbaly asking a concerned Megavolt to be given a minute to recover as he tried to catch his breath. Deep inhale, loud sigh of relief, he slumped into the cushions. "... How'd I even get this? I was fine yesterday..."

"... Were you?" Megavolt frowned and tried to recall if anything seemed amiss the night prior. Terrible memory that he had, he couldn't be quite sure and had to take what QuackerJack said about it with a grain of salt. "Didn't you have a run in with... Uhhh..."

"... Negaduck. _And_ Darkwing."

"... How are you still alive?"

This made QuackerJack crack up more than it should have, he wondered if it was the giddy sensation from having coughed for a solid minute catching up to him. His laugh was wheezy and irritated his throat, he hated this so, so much, this wasn't fun at all. He coughed again.

"I'm going out and finding you cough medicine."

"Great, I'll come along."

"You're staying here."

"Make me."

"Alright." Megavolt folded his arms and motioned his head towards the winding stairs. "If you can make it down those, you can come along."

"Pfft, seriously? I use these all the time, easy." QuackerJack grinned. "Sometimes even two or more steps at once."

"Well, then, I'll meet you down at the bottom."

QuackerJack found out that it was easier said than done, unfortunately. He wasn't aware of exactly how many steps there were in this gosh forsaken lighthouse until he had to descend them whilst impaired. He wasn't sure how many he managed to step down until it was all interrupted by a horrible, horrible feeling spreading thoughout him. He slowly lifted his eyes upward to stare at the slowly growing shadow in his peripheral vision, which was quickly accompanied by what he could only describe as "pretty sparkly dots" dancing like fireflies in his line of sight.

The weak sensation in his knees and the fact that his head felt "floaty" finally tipped him off that he was about to pass out.

Before he had the chance to react, he woke up (much to his initial confusion) to find Megavolt holding him under the arms and dragging him back to the couch, muttering under his breath about what an idiot QuackerJack was for trying to scale two hundred and fifty seven steps with an obvious temporary impairment.

"... And I'll do it again until it works..." QuackerJack said stubbornly, stifling a small cough.

"That is the very definition of insanity, you know that, right?" Megavolt yanked him up onto the couch and shot a glare at him when QuackerJack tried to get up again, clearly not letting the first setback from a few minutes ago be a problem. "Oh, Edison, you're absolutely serious about that..."

"I _told_ you, I'm not staying here all day."

"You're not walking around infected with who knows what, spreading it through the town, and possibly getting worse from overexerting yourself because you _know_ Darkwing Duck is out looking for you, and Negaduck is probably out to throttle you."

"I'll be fine, I can go on for hours."

"Uh, huh..." Megavolt was clearly not convinced. "I'm going out, I'll grab some stuff on the way back, but you're staying here."

"... At the very least, write a list down so you don't forget anything. You said you'd get cough medicine. In fact, I'll go with you so you don't forget."

"You don't give up, do you?"

"You're telling me to sit in one place for who knows how long, how do you think I feel!"

Despite his best efforts, QuackerJack could not in fact convince Megavolt to let him leave the lighthouse in his current vertignous state, and as if it wasn't bad enough, the sparky rodent had set up a platoon of lightbulbs all about the living area to keep an eye on him, and honestly, QuackerJack couldn't decide if that was brilliant or absurd.

"... Don't look at me like that." He huffed at Mr. Banana Brain. "He's the crazy one, thinking lightbulbs are going to stop me from getting to the stairs."

Mr. Banana Brain did not respond, but continued to stare with his usual doofy, walleyed expression.

"... Why are you so quiet? I really don't like that." QuackerJack frowned, inhaling deeply before he held his breath in frustration.

He looked at the many rows of lightbulbs lined up in front of the door to the stairs, making a mental count, and bitterly resigned to the fact that he'd be unable to step over them without breaking one, which would most likely upset Megavolt. And even if he tried to move them aside, the little luminaries would rat him out later anyway.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was pretty much trapped in the lighthouse until Megavolt was back, whenever that was going to be.

* * *

Megavolt squinted at the scrap of napkin that had a reminder note scrawled on it. He was going to have a talk later with QuackerJack about his chicken scratch writing of what he called penmanship, this was almost as illegible as a doctor's prescription.

He pocketed it and approached the drug store, repeatedly reminding himself that he was there for cough medicine and the like, and _not_ for the lightbulbs that were crying out in anguish. He'd come back for those later, of course, but right now, he had to get what he came for the right way, so he wasn't apprehended before he got back to the lighthouse.

But those lightbulbs. Those poor, poor lightbulbs...

He tried his best to focus on the labels of the bottles and bags in the decongestant aisle, trying to figure if what they were dealing with was the cold or the flu. Syrup or pills? Capsules or tablets? Would lozenges help, or is that excessive? What flavor, anyway..?

Most of them seemed to claim that they'd cause drowsiness, but those for daytime relief seemed to not. But they were bundled with the nighttime ones, likely to be considered a value pack since you'd probably buy both anyway.

Megavolt picked up one particular package and read the information carefully. The known side effects seemed mild enough, and it covered both cold _and_ flu, so that seemed preferable...

He dropped that into the hand basket, and reached for some lozenges while ignoring the stares he was getting from across the aisles (and trying to tune out the distant cries of the package bulbs that resided three aisles away).

To be fair, they had a right to be suspicious of him being there, but he wasn't causing any trouble at the moment. He was going to be a paying customer today.

Once confident he had enough options in the basket, he turned around, only to collide with someone passing through the aisle anxiously, who happened to be carrying a seven pound bag of fertilizer. They were wearing a trench coat of sorts while also wearing a large knit cap, but the greenish hue of the face, leafy hands and root-like feet that were visible were a dead giveaway.

"... Bushroot?"

"Hey, what are you trying to do, let everyone know I'm here?" Bushroot said in a hushed voice, glancing around, clearly having to be more alert than Megavolt on account of his total inability to blend in. "I'm incognito, call me 'Reggie', we've been over this."

"... Reggie?" Megavolt said in the exact same tone as before.

"Better." Bushroot said with a sigh. "What are you doing here?"

"Quacky's sick with something, I've got him holed up at my place because he's stubborn and I'm here trying to figure out what to get for that."

"What's he got?"

"I'm not too sure, but he's coughing and kinda pink in the face, and then there's just him being just, eh, I guess out of it or whatever isn't normal for him." Megavolt wracked his brain for recollections of earlier in the day. "I thought maybe he caught a bad cold, but after he fainted in the stairwell trying walk down it, I had to drag him back to the couch, and I couldn't help but notice how feverish he seemed."

"... He did what?" Bushroot was understandably alarmed. "And you just-you just left him at your place, _alone?_ "

"No, he was coherent when I left, in fact, he kept trying to trick me into taking him along." Megavolt shook his head. "I figured it wasn't going to be a long errand, and besides, I don't think he'd be able to outrun Darkwing if he showed up, because Quacky's on his list right now."

Bushroot dropped the bag of fertilizer and put both leafy hands on Megavolt's shoulders.

"You left a disoriented, sick QuackerJack alone in your hideout?"

"He's not alone, there's all the lightbulbs I set up to keep an eye on him."

Bushroot had a look on his face that clearly said he had forgotten how insane his friends were.

"... Hey, wait, you're a doctor, aren't you, Reggie?"

"Botanist."

"So, like, a plant doctor?"

"Plant scientist." Bushroot was incredibly patient with him. "Kind of literally, now that I think about it. But, anyway, how long have you been here? How long has he been alone?"

"... I haven't looked at a clock, to be honest."

"Ballpark it."

"Counting how long it takes to get here, I'd say no more than an hour, maybe two."

"And you left him, alone."

"I didn't have any of this cold and flu med stuff at my place, not even a cough drop."

"... We really should come up with a networking system better than just bumping into each other at random..." Bushroot said, mostly to himself, then he spoke up. "At the very least, did you notice anything else about him that could be considered part of this illness?"

"Well, it's a bit odd, but he insisted that he can't hear that doll of his."

"..." Bushroot, the arguably most sane of his usual crew, blinked then shoved Megavolt towards the cash register. "Come on, you're paying for this stuff and we're going to go over there and we are going to get a better assessment than just a 'cold'."

"... I don't-?"

"When has that banana doll ever been quiet around him?

"... Oh. Oh my, Edison, that _is_ concerning." Megavolt said in a near deadpan voice once it finally struck him as to how unusual it was for Mr. Banana Brain to not be active. "... What about the fertilizer? I'll pay for that too, if you want, I got gift cards."

"Really, gee, that'd be real nice, thank you."

* * *

QuackerJack could swear he could hear the distant noise of a certain electric modified car somewhere in the distance, but quite honestly, he wasn't able to focus on that at the moment.

He, in an attempt to fill the silence left by Mr. Banana Brain's sudden missing voice, had tried to turn on Megavolt's television, only to find that the darn thing was stuck on one channel, and the control switch knobs on the front refused to work properly.

As if fate was enjoying dealing him a cruel hand, it just so happened that the station it was stuck on was running a "Whiffle Boy Saturday Morning Cartoon Marathon", and he lost track of how long it had been. At best, he could guess about seven episodes had passed, because he could recall that the intro ran at least that many times.

He couldn't accurately state, however, because early on, he had screeched so much in a mix of anger, annoyance and unadulterated displeasure that he had made his voice incredibly hoarse and had temporarily lost consciousness from one particular scream that lasted far longer than his lung capacity could allow.

He couldn't turn the volume down, and the power switch refused to work. He even tried to pull the plug, but it retaliated by sending sparks at him, which he backed off for fear of setting the place ablaze.

His only reprieve, it seemed, was the commercial breaks, and even then, more than half of them was the same pool of Whiffle Boy advertisements.

Megavolt had been gone for at least two hours, and QuackerJack was beginning to wonder if his absent-minded friend did indeed get sidetracked and simply forgot what he was supposed to do. Or worse, perhaps he'd been apprehended because he couldn't resist the calls of the lightbulbs likely housed several aisles away from the over-the-counter pharmaceuticals...

"... As if he doesn't have enough already..." QuackerJack muttered bitterly, wondering if he could get away from the TV somehow, drown it out, or maybe muffle it's speakers.

To his great relief, he found that the tiny bathroom tucked away to the far end of the lighthouse (compared to where he was) was relatively soundproof, or at least muffled the sound of the TV just enough for him to be able to think, and it's cool temperature and lack of natural light was greatly appreciated.

He gathered up Mr. Banana Brain, the couch cushions and blanket he'd been using and set up a somewhat comfortable resting place in the bathtub, and wrapped himself in the blanket like a colorful clown burrito. He closed his eyes and sighed wearily, sinking into the cushions and more than ready to have a much needed nap.

He wasn't sure how long he managed to doze off, if any, but he was suddenly very much aware of a very loud dripping noise coming from the bathroom sink. Eyes wide and exhausted from lack of sleep, he stared in mute exasperation as the drips started to take the shape of a familiar dog-like entity.

"... Um, wrong place?" Liquidator seemed about as confused as QuackerJack was, so much so that he couldn't even think of a snappy slogan to announce his arrival, as he genuinely did not expect to find the jester wrapped up in a blanket on a bathtub full of couch cushions in a dimly lit bathroom. "I thought this was the lighthouse..?"

Something snapped for a moment with QuackerJack, more than it should have, and you could almost hear a noise not unlike the sound of a baseball through a window. He started laughing, perhaps from his usual lunacy, perhaps from the mounting absurdities and coincidences that day, but most likely perhaps because he was feverish and hadn't had a wink of sleep all day.

He continued to laugh, which was wheezy, and he coughed once or twice as he tried to catch his breath, sinking further into the cushions. The grin on his face was rather odd and he yanked at the dingle dangles of his hat.

Liquidator was sitting on the sink counter, drawing himself as much away from the delirious duck as possible in this small of space, a small puddle forming where his feet dangled over the edge.

Still unable to come up with a clever sales-pitch style response out of simple confusion, he blinked and said: "Uh, you... You alright there, QuackerJack?"

"Nope, not at all!" QuackerJack squawked hoarsely after inhaling, completely sliding down on his back and was actively wiggling like a convulsing worm due to still being wrapped in the blanket. He gasped and giggled with an alarming tone that did not match the apparent mirth. "Just having the worst day ever, I mean, since I lost my company!"

"... Are you here alone?"

"Of course not, there's aaaaaaaaall the lightbulbs and my good buddy, Mr. Banana Brain!" QuackerJack managed to pull himself up out of the cushion trap, and leaned over the edge of the tub, one arm hanging limply while he guffawed and looked up at Liquidator with a pale, but flushed, face. "'Cept Mr. Banana Brain isn't feeling too good, so he hasn't said a word to me all day!"

Liquidator carefully inched past him, opened the door and leaned out to look around. Yes, this was indeed the lighthouse, but he couldn't figure out why QuackerJack was here and not Megavolt. He leaned back in, scratching his watery head in confusion.

"Where's Megavolt?"

"Left to get some things for me, I'd say about... Hmmm... Two and a half hours ago." QuackerJack was failing miserably at stifling the remaining bits of his laughing fit before appearing to be quite upset. "... Licky, what if he got arrested..? I can't look after three hundred and ninety four lightbulbs by myself, what do lightbulbs even eat, anyway..?"

Liquidator was used to a certain level of "crazy" from QuackerJack, but he could tell right now this was a sort febrile induced fit of hysteria. Of course, he himself couldn't do much to help, on account of being a continuously dripping water dog who was, for the most part, considered a living liquid mass, so at best, he'd just get the poor unwell toymaker saturated.

The remaining color suddenly drained from QuackerJack's visibly flushed face, and he scrambled out of the tub in an awkward tumble, landing with an uncomfortable groan, face first on the laminated tile with about as much grace as a fish out of water, bells on his hat giving an unenthusiastic jingle. Once he got to his feet, he shoved Liquidator out the door in an uneasy manner, mumbling frantically under his breath, before he slammed the door, leaving the drippy canine looking over his shoulder at the wooden barrier in a mild state of confusion, having not exactly comprehended the sudden movement of QuackerJack.

At that precise moment, he was not very appreciative of the keen sense of smell that was due to being a dog, and the reason for QuackerJack roughly escorting him into the hall was very clear now.

After about two minutes of coughing and retching, QuackerJack's voice chimed with tired optimism: "Good news, my headache's gone! I can think a bit clearer now!"

* * *

"You realize it's probably going to be difficult to get him to take that cough syrup, don't you?" Bushroot was examining the box for directions, as Megavolt loaded the "overnight bag" into the trunk of the car, silently grateful that QuackerJack was crazy prepared for most contingencies (clearly, he had a little too much time on his hands, if he had been able to build not one, but two fully functional, manually operated time machines out of giant spinning tops). The satchel even had a note pinned to it, explaining the purpose, which Megavolt was able to confirm after looking inside.

"Probably going to be like trying to get an overgrown child to take the stuff..." Megavolt shrugged as he slammed the trunk door shut, just to be sure the latch had caught properly, then walked to the driver's side. "If we have to, I guess we can just dump it in his mouth and hold his beak shut."

"Presumptuous of you to think I'm involved in this." Bushroot said in a deadpan tone, not looking up from the box he was reading, but suddenly snorted once he felt the apprehensive air that Megavolt gave off when he froze halfway through closing the car door. "I'm joking, I'm not mean."

"Reggie, I swear..." Megavolt started before shaking his head. "... Alright, you got me good for a moment, but I'm serious."

"While we're at it, what sort of things are in your fridge?" Bushroot shoved the box back in the grocery sack. "I mean, how stocked are you for a sick day?"

"... Um, half a jar of pickles and some leftover fries from Hamburger Hippo's, I think. I haven't really had time to restock, this weekend was my first day back at the lighthouse after spending a month at that apartment." Megavolt said sheepishly." I got cans of stuff in the cabinets and some instant stuff, but nothing fresh."

"Well, that's not going to do at all." Bushroot shook his head, then opened the glove box to retrieve a pen and a scrap of paper. "Here's a small list of things you should at least have, some for hygiene reasons and some for making this a whole lot easier on the both of you."

"Oh, yeah? And what makes you so sure?" Megavolt just wanted to get back to the lighthouse and out of the public eye.

"I'm a doctor."

"You said you were a botanist."

"I'm still more qualified than you to make an assessment." Bushroot said in an almost parental tone, handing the list to Megavolt. "We both know QuackerJack isn't going to cooperate with the taste of the cough syrup, so we could probably negotiate a deal with him if we offered a sports drink to wash out the flavor in his mouth. Also, sports drinks have electrolytes and should keep him hydrated and help bring down any fever."

"... Actually, that's a great idea." Megavolt read the small list a couple of times over. "It's almost impossible to get him to eat anything that's either not drowning in sugar, or straight up junk food."

"It's not a bad idea to grab some cans of disinfectant, too, so you can sterilize everything."

It had just occurred to Megavolt that his entire lighthouse could be swarming with sick germs, considering that he really didn't expect QuackerJack to stay confined to one room. More than one can was a definite must.

* * *

To say they were surprised to see Liquidator at the lighthouse was a bit of an understatement. The wet dog explained that he'd originally had intended to be here as a moment of getting his bearings, as he'd been traveling through the water system, and figured the lighthouse would be temporary sanctuary, but had been stunned to have been greeted by QuackerJack instead, who seemed worse for the wear.

"Yeah, he caught some kind of bug or something, so he's crashing here." Megavolt dismissed, scooping the lightbulbs off the floor and away from the ever present puddle that followed Liquidator. Then he shut off the TV, hardly paying any mind to what the station was running. "Not exactly sure if he's got a cold or the flu, but Bushroot and I picked up some things. Where's Quacky, anyway?"

Liquidator pointed to the bathroom door.

"Crashing there."

Megavolt blinked.

"... Huh?"

"Last I saw, he stuffed the tub with pillows and tried to sleep there." Liquidator had his arms in a shrug. "Stunned me enough that I couldn't think of a pitch slogan on the spot. When I finally did, he threw a bar of soap at me."

"... You do look like you have more bubbles than usual."

The bathroom door was suddenly yanked open forcefully, slamming into the doorstop on the inside of said room, and QuackerJack was standing in the doorway, shivering slightly, but with an exasperated expression on his more than grumpy looking face. He had the blanket draped over his shoulders, and Mr. Banana Brain hung limply from his hand.

"... I don't want to be rude..." He said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, which was a bit hoarse and croaky. "... But I haven't been able to get much rest today... Please keep it down..." He blinked, then squinted, then counted under his breath. "... Gang's all here, I see... Greeeeaaaat-uh."

QuackerJack coughed weakly, clearly sounding like his body was tired of doing that regularly.

"Wow, you weren't kidding." Bushroot said, setting one of the brown paper grocery sacks on the flimsy, fold-out table. "I don't think I've ever seen him this subdued."

"QuackerJack, why are you sleeping in my bathroom?" Megavolt reached into the bag he was carrying, and pulled out one of the bottles of cough suppressant.

"... Couldn't shut the TV off, there was Whiffle Boy on, just wanted quiet, s'all..." QuackerJack said through a yawn.

Usually, the mere mention of Whiffle Boy would stir a sort of smoldering rage in the clown, so for QuackerJack to have had such an underwhelming reaction to the television being stuck on it, it was clear that he wasn't feeling like himself.

He was ushered swiftly to one of the metal folding chairs, and the noise of disinfectant cans being sprayed liberally throughout lighthouse sounded off, filling the air with cleansing fumes so thick, that QuackerJack doubted he was breathing oxygen at the moment, which he reacted by lifting the edge of the blanket over his beak to filter it. The blanket was quickly tugged from him, despite his moan of protest, and that too was sprayed generously.

Everything smelled like "Fresh Linen", and it was making his nostrils raw.

The satchel was shoved into his hands and he stared blearily at it, then looked up in a mild state of confusion. It seemed that he had forgotten entirely about requesting the bag, and he tilted his head a little to confirm that.

"We have to spray everything, so go change."

QuackerJack grumbled something and shuffled his way back to the bathroom, which seemed, by the state of the air, like it had had an entire can of disinfectant spray deposited in there. He coughed.

His back up clothes were practically identical to his usual wear, but it was clear that his hat was probably unique.

"We need to spray the hat, too." Megavolt reached a hand out and wiggled his fingers in an urging gesture.

QuackerJack grabbed both dingle dangles of his hat with both hands in a vice like grip and shook his head, making a discontented grunt.

"It's just going to be a minute at most, you'll get it back when it's done."

QuackerJack took a step back towards the bathroom, now appearing disgruntled.

"QuackerJack, we need to disinfect everything, and that thing is on your head _all_ the time."

QuackerJack stuck his tongue out and ducked into the bathroom, kicking the door shut. There was a **CLICK!** and it was obvious he had locked the door in an attempt to dissuade them from confiscating his hat.

"... You realize I have the door key, right?" Megavolt sighed on the other side of the door. "You're being difficult."

The door was opened quickly enough, and QuackerJack screeched like an enraged rooster. As soon as the trio approached him, he kicked and thrashed about, keeping a tight, white knuckled grip on his hat.

Truth be told, it was probably the most energetic he'd been all weekend, but it was doubtful he could keep up the stamina in his sickened state. Bushroot was able to restrain him with a firm wrap of his vines, and about a minute later, QuackerJack slumped wearily while still maintaining a decent grip on his hat, though it was able to be tugged free, despite his feeble protesting, then sprayed with disinfectant.

"You really made that harder than it needed to be." Megavolt said, handing the hat back, which QuackerJack was quick to pull it on his head as soon as his arms were free, hiding his messy head feathers.

Bushroot gently prodded around QuackerJack's throat with leafy hands, which the clown did not protest to (whether from trust or simple exhaustion, it wasn't too clear), and took note of some things.

"Lymph nodes are a bit swollen. How long did you say he's been sick?"

"Eh, didn't really notice until this morning."

"... Was fine yesterday." QuackerJack yawned, reaching a hand up to shove the plant duck back with very little effort. "Can you please leave now?"

"Did you use a thermometer yet? What's his temperature?" Bushroot didn't seem to hear QuackerJack's request, which made the toothy duck appear annoyed beyond all reason.

"I... Haven't?" Megavolt scratched his head and shrugged. "At least, I don't remember if I have..."

At this point, QuackerJack was ready to start screaming again, on account of being exasperated, exhausted and extremely disgruntled.

" _Will everyone just get out of here and let me sleep!_ " The sick duck shouted, though not as well as he could have normally, as his voice kept giving out at the "Eh" sound words.

"That depends, we need to check a few things, because you probably have the flu, and if you do, we can't just leave you alone the whole time."

QuackerJack made an utterance of disbelief. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He felt like what was left of his nerves were frazzled beyond belief and quite honestly, he was so worked up that everything had come full circle and he was starting to just peacefully accept the fact that he wasn't going to get a moment's reprieve anytime soon.

A wide, empty grin spread on his face and he giggled weakly. Bushroot drew his vines back quickly, staring at QuackerJack with a look of apprehension. For as long as he'd known the toymaker, he still could not get over how unexpectedly creepy QuackerJack could be at times with his sudden fits of laughter. Experience told him that the colorful duck could be rather volatle in this state, and it was best to keep just enough distance to be able to respond, just in case QuackerJack had a fit of some extreme emotion.

QuackerJack had his tongue between his teeth and was failing miserably at getting a grip on himself, which honestly wasn't that easy to begin with. He snorted, gasped and pulled at his hat, kicked his feet and continued to chortle until he petered out a few minutes later and slid to the floor, and rolled over on his side. He huffed a weary sigh, and looked up at the concerned trio with a pout.

"... Quacky, what was _that_ about!"

* * *

Thermometer readings read that at least the fever wasn't too bad. A one-oh-one degrees Fahrenheit fever, low grade at best, most likely uncomfortable but nothing too concerning. It would seem that his irritability was due to the lack of sleep in the past twenty four hours.

Normally, QuackerJack had no trouble pulling all-nighters regularly, as he was often working into the late late hours of the night scribbling away on ideas for his next big "toy" that would surely put him back in business, or at the very least, crush his competition, most likely quite literally. But, this wasn't insomnia due to his brain buzzing with idea after idea, no. This was sleep deprivation while suffering malaise, and he was downright exhausted. And exhaustion sure does stuff to a fella, y'know?

But, instead, he was forced to partake in what he'd been referring to as "silly rituals". A thermometer had been slipped under his tongue. A mug of tea with lemon and honey was set in front of him. He shoved the bowl of soup away, he just wasn't hungry despite not recalling the last time he ate.

"QuackerJack, you have to eat _some_ thing." Bushroot insisted.

"... Says who? You're not a doctor..." The clown stuck out his tongue like a petulant child.

The ever calm and reserved Reginald Bushroot was very much close to losing his temper with QuackerJack's consistently immature behavior. And it was showing, as the petals on his head wilted just a little bit.

Liquidator was about to break the tension with one of his snappy slogans, but to the shock of everyone, Bushroot, for lack of a better term, "blew up".

"I don't care what I am!" He shouted, smacking a hand down on the flimsy table, causing the contents on top to rattle a little. QuackerJack flinched and jumped in mild fright. "I didn't even have to be here, but I am! Y-you-you-! You're just a-a-a _brat!_ "

There was such a deafening silence throughout the lighthouse that Bushroot was painfully aware how much of a scene he just made. QuackerJack's eyes were wide. Megavolt's mouth hung open. Liquidator had his hands over his mouth in a gesture of shock.

Bushroot sank into the chair opposite of QuackerJack and set his head in the table dejectedly.

"Geeze, Bushroot..." Megavolt was the first of the others to break the silence. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"... S-sorry..." Bushroot stammered an apology before he shot up with sudden renewed vigor. "Wait! That's it! Brat! The brat diet!"

"... The what?"

"Banana, applesauce, rice, toast! It's an acronym!" The literal botanist exclaimed a little too excitedly. "Bland enough to not sicken further, but good enough to actually help!"

"... If I eat a banana, will you guys just let me sleep?" QuackerJack honestly didn't care at this point what he had to do, as long as it was quick, and got him back to his makeshift bed. He wasn't used to being this worn out, regardless of how often he stayed awake. Being sick sucked, and he knew at the very least that resting was the best way to get over it. "... Half a banana..?"

"All the banana."

"Fair enough..." QuackerJack said before grinning with less intensity than usual, leaning forward against the table, with his hands propping up his head, stifling another cough. "I had no idea you guys cared so much..."

"Well, we're all a team, aren't we?" Megavolt shrugged.

Bushroot said something under his breath that sounded something to the effect of: "... Arguably..."

Amazingly enough, it wasn't too much of a hassle trying to get him to take the cough syrup. As soon as he heard that it was likely going to knock him out for few hours, he practically shouted, with a somewhat shot, but eager voice: "I've been trying to sleep all day, let's do it!"

It was certainly unusual for the atmosphere to be so quiet once everything was squared away, but the important thing was that QuackerJack was tended to for the time being.

However, it would have been nice if he hadn't dismantled the couch, as the remaining trio was left with two folding chairs, and the cushion-less frame of said couch.

Someone had to sit on the floor.

* * *

Some amount of time passed, I'm not really sure as to how much, as there's not exactly a clock set up in that bathroom there, but it was certainly in the later, quiet hours.

If I had to guess, maybe it was about five hours later, some time after midnight I guess, in which all current inhabitants of the lighthouse had gone to sleep (three of whom had done so because there wasn't much to do that wouldn't be disruptive, as the goal was to help QuackerJack recover faster and be on his way to go do his usual QuackerJack related shinanagans).

About this time, the drowsiness factor of the cough syrup was wearing off slowly, and QuackerJack stirred a bit from this five hour nap to stretch a little and find a more comfortable position, drawing the still silent Mr. Banana Brain closer in a way a child does when snoozing with thier favorite toy.

" _... Someone's watching us, Cuz..._ " A familiar voice quietly squeaked in his ear, and his eyes shot wide open, now completely awake.

Having been on his side, he jerked his head at a quarter turn to the right and felt like his heart just jumped into his throat.

Negaduck was standing over him, either foot on either side of the tub's edge, hands bracing the edge of the tub above QuackerJack's head.

"... Hey, Clown." Negaduck sneered under his breath, quickly gripping a hand on the edge of QuackerJack's beak before the latter had a chance to do so much as squawk in shock. "... You know, you ruined my plan earlier. I'm not very happy about that."

The toymaker was in a state of panic, having wondered for a moment if this was just a fever dream brought on by a mix of malaise, the cough syrup, and his own wacky brain, but the pinching grip of Negaduck's hand on his beak was a bit too strong to be imaginary. He wasn't sure _how_ Negaduck found him, much less managed to get past Megavolt, Bushroot and Liquidator without so much as a sound (and the briefest thought that perhaps Negaduck had done something to them crossed his fogged mind, and put it into horrified frenzy).

"... I can tell you're probably wondering how I got here?" Negaduck was faintly illuminated by the dim light of the night light that was plugged in over the edge of the sink. It did nothing to alieviate just how unsettling the imagery was in the dark.

 _... If he's talking in such a low voice, he's either trying to scare me more, or maybe the others don't even know he's here..._ QuackerJack thought to himself as he nodded numbly, having a bit of difficulty breathing properly on account of his stuffed up sinuses and the fact that Negaduck was clamping his beak shut. He sniffled a bit, mentally cursing his illness for filling his nostrils with snot.

"... Well, now, if I told you that, then it ruins the _punch_ , don't you think?" Negaduck smirked, leaning to where he was close enough for QuackerJack to see the individual feather on the tufted sides of the sinister duck's face.

At that exact moment, the inside of QuackerJack's nasal passages itched and tickled, his body twitched, and his face scrunched for a split second before he sneezed.

He sneezed, and, on account of Negaduck having a vicelike grip on the edge of his beak, the only way for the sudden constriction of air for the lung to escape was out the nose.

He sneezed, right in Negaduck's face.

There was about ten seconds of absolute silence between them, save for the low moan of dread building in QuackerJack's throat.

Negaduck seemed like his thought process just _stopped_ for the moment as he tried figure out just what in the world just happened. He let go of QuackerJack's beak as a choking noise escaped him as he brought his free hand to his face and wiped it across his own beak, staring in abject horror at the mess he now had on it.

QuackerJack had both of his own hands to his face, staring at the soon to be enraged duck fearfully, on the verge of hyperventilating. What just happened, what just happened, what just happened, _what just happened?_

"OH, YOU MESSED UP NOW, YOU KNOB!" Negaduck was livid, which honestly was a common occurrence, but it didn't make it any less frightening. Negaduck was now bearing down with his hands and feet on both sides of the tub, teeth bared, which left the clown trapped with very little room to escape in this position.

QuackerJack screamed and started swinging whatever he had in his hands, which was a half full bottle of shampoo and a certain sawdust filled doll that he kept a white knuckled grip on the entire ordeal. His sense of self preservation kicked into overdrive and he was going to at least give it a shot.

Amazingly, this seemed to stun Negaduck, who honestly didn't expect QuackerJack to be able to fight back, on account of the usual terror he had around him, as well as the clown clearly being under the weather. Suddenly, amidst the flurry of swings, Negaduck put two and two together and realized that QuackerJack had actually managed to contract that mild strain of the flu when he collided with him earlier in the weekend, as the small vial had been shattered upon collision.

 _And QuackerJack just sneezed on him._

"DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU STUPID IDIOT!" Negaduck barked furiously, jumping backwards as he shoved the distraught toymaker away from him, getting a weighted banana shaped projectile slapped upside his face.

The door to the bathroom was kicked open and Negaduck spun around to see the three very shocked remaining members of the team, and he wondered if this could possibly get any worse.

It did.

Without thinking (probably responding on pure instinct to see thier most vulnerable teammate cornered), Megavolt, Bushroot and Liquidator grabbed him in a rush of hands, vines and shaped water. They quickly ran to the open window in the main living area and chucked him out, screaming all the way as he shouted death threats at them all.

Once the panic died down, Bushroot was the first to regain his composure, and he cautiously leaned out the window to look at the Negaduck-shaped hole in the gravel walkway.

"Uh, did... did we just th-thr-throw Negaduck out a seventeenth story window?"

"We sure did, Bushroot, we sure did..." Megavolt put a shaky hand on the plant duck's shoulder, peering out the window as well.

"... Did anyone remember to lock the downstairs door?"

"Uh..."

"For goodness sake, did you or did you not remember to _lock the doors?_ " Bushroot said with a sense of urgency. " _Because he's crawling back out of the ground like a bean sprout!_ "

"Scenic Beaker's Point's lighthouse has a total of two hundred and fifty seven evenly spaced steps!" Liquidator chimed in with the air of a travel ad, much to the annoyance of the other two. "That's seventeen flights, with about twenty minutes of normal walking pace, but given how angry he looks we might have-!"

Megavolt had already flipped the locks and slipped the locking chain in place for the door at the top of the stairs, which one could hear the rapidly accending very angry stomping noise of an incredibly enraged duck.

The three of them then shoved the cushion-less couch in front of the door as a makeshift barricade, then quickly retreated to the bathroom to lock themselves in.

At this point, the whole incredibly stressful ordeal mixed with the malaise and the residual side effects of the cough syrup resulted in QuackerJack passing out from a mixture of exhaustion and terror, so he wasn't much help at all at the moment.

They realized all too late that there wasn't much in there in terms of defense, so they had no choice but to arm themselves with nothing but thier own abilities, thier wits, a plunger, a toilet bowl brush, and the shampoo bottle that was half full.

* * *

The faint light of sunrise managed to eek through the underside of the bathroom door just enough to indicate it was daybreak now. Megavolt, Bushroot and Liquidator hadn't slept a wink, and the three of them were sitting on the tiled floor, huddled and shivering, hands gripped tightly around thier makeshift weapons.

QuackerJack finally woke up, and did so with a deep inhale of shock crossed with an utterance of "Gah!", shoving himself up from his collapsed position in the cushioned tub with both arms, looking around wildly with a rhythm jingle of the bells on his hat, having not realized that he had been unconscious for the better part of five hours. As far as he knew, he'd been fighting off Negaduck with a doll and half a bottle of hair cleaning product, and he hadn't even seen his teammates come to his rescue. He had been fully prepared to bite if he had to, he wasn't ashamed to admit that.

His wide eyes fell on the stunned and nerve-wracked trio in front of him, and the adrenaline rush dissipated quickly, immediately finding reassurance that he hadn't been abandoned the moment Negaduck infiltrated the sanctuary that had been this exact lighthouse.

The grin that spread on his face wasn't the usual one of mindless joy, but genuinely grateful.

"... Hey, guys, rough night?"

Megavolt blinked then threw the plunger in his hands to the ground, the wooden handle clattering in the echo of the room.

"WE'RE LUCKY TO BE ALIVE!" The electric rodent screeched. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?"

"... Uh, yeah, I was the one who screamed for help, of course." An unamused look crossed QuackerJack's face before he grinned widely. "Actually, if it wasn't for Mr. Banana Brain, I don't know what could have happened."

"... What?"

QuackerJack held up the doll, and waved it in the air excitedly.

"Mr Banana Brain must be feeling better, because he was the one who told me Negaduck was here."

Megavolt looked at Liquidator, who exchanged a glance with Bushroot, who shrugged at both of them as Megavolt nodded uncertainly at him.

"... Yeah, that's... good to hear." Megavolt said hesitantly before it occurred to him what it mean for Mr. Banana Brain to doing stuff: "I guess that means you're doing better?"

"It's been about two days, I think we're not even close to done with this, but yeah, I'm definitely feeling better than yesterday. I think all that disinfectant you saturated the place probably killed most of the germs. Like my hat. Boy, did you saturate my hat. I don't think I'll be able to get the scent of Fresh Linen out of my head feathers for the next several weeks." QuackerJack tugged one of the dingle dangles of his hat with a cautious pinch of his forefinger and thumb, flashing a sour expression briefly. "So, how'd you get Negaduck out of here, anyway? I thought he was going to actually kill me..."

"... We... threw him out the window." Bushroot deadpanned, as if he himself didn't exactly believe it. He carefully set down the shampoo bottle that he had a vine wrapped around far too many times, the center of the bottle a bit bent from the force. "Really, there's hole in the ground to prove it. We didn't actually mean to, but somehow, we all did it at the same time. I have no idea how we're going to have to explain that to him next time we have to do a job, because I doubt he's going to forget that..."

Bushroot heaved a sigh, and stared the floor.

"... How are we not dead?" QuackerJack dropped Mr. Banana Brain in response. "If he got in earlier, then he could have been able to... Wait, how _did_ he get in without anyone hearing?"

Liquidator and Bushroot looked at Megavolt.

"Statistics say that one out of four of us forgot to lock the doors." The salesman dog chimed in, discreetly waving a hand in Megavolt's direction.

"Excuse me, why is it only _my_ fault! I wasn't the last one in the door, at least I don't think I was!"

"It's your hideout."

"And I don't remember inviting you to party!" Megavolt snapped back at the dog. "I don't think it matters who forgot the door, at least we're alive!"

"... But that doesn't answer why he didn't get back in here." QuackerJack asked once more, with feeling.

"To be absolutely honest, I think the noise he was making outside the door we barricaded probably was considered a noise complaint because it was after midnight, so someone must have reported him and he was arrested. I think I heard sirens." Bushroot explained, appearing to be briefly amused by the thought of Negaduck being dragged away for being too loud after curfew hours. He was quickly back to being serious. "... We haven't tried to leave this room, actually."

"I sneezed on him, that's mostly why he was coming at me."

"... You... sneezed on him?"

"Yeah. In the face."

"Oooh..." Bushroot sounded somewhat impressed. "I think we'll be fine for a while then."

You could almost hear the wordless questioning in the otherwise silent room.

"... He sneezed on him." Bushroot reiterated. "There's a very high chance that QuackerJack just infected Negaduck."

"Wait, I'm contagious? Then why aren't you guys sick?" QuackerJack tilted his head to the left quizzically.

"Plants don't get the flu, and I'm pretty sure water doesn't either."

"Wait!" Megavolt suddenly looked panicked. "I'm neither of those, what about me!"

"He's avian, you're a mammal, I doubt it's going to even be an issue. We're all in the clear."

"... That is oddly convenient." QuackerJack said, picking up Mr. Banana Brain. "Am I the only one who thinks that's really a coincidence?"

"Well, either way, I'm exhausted from staying up all night trying to save your unconscious behind..." Megavolt grumbled, shaking his head. "Move over, I'm going to sleep..."

"Hey, I'm sleeping here!"

"You've gotten more sleep than any of us, it's my place, my cushions, my tub."

"But, I'm the sick one, why don't you just sleep on your own bed!"

"Because I usually sleep on the couch and you took all the cushions, Quacky!"

* * *

Elsewhere, Negaduck was detained in a cell, and he wasn't very pleased about it, obviously.

To top that off, he was going to be stuck there for the rest of the weekend, which, as the day was Sunday, meant it wasn't going to be right away. Worse yet, Monday was some federal St. Canardian holiday, so he was stuck there for the extended weekend.

He was stewing, just thinking of all the ways he could get back at those knobs. Throw him out the window, will they? He was going to be sure they never did that again.

And worse yet, that asinine clown _sneezed_ on him. Of all the stupid, idiotic ways to be taken off guard, he certainly wasn't expecting that toy geek to get an edge like that, purely by accident even!

Just the fresh memory of that disgusting moist mess splattering across his face was enough to make his blood boil from the sheer audacity.

How dare that clown? He'd been nothing but a nuisance, a irksome annoyance, dare he say that he was even a fatuous, inane screwball of a loser, and it was infuriating that he had been able to get the drop on him...

No matter, not a problem, no worries, as soon as he got out of the detention cell, he'd be back on the streets and he was going to-

Negaduck sneezed.

Then he screamed.

* * *

And that ends the incredibly long and convoluted way that Negaduck's plan backfired. The entire thing I had in mind was that it was a bit of a long winded explanation that takes place way elsewhere before coming back. Also, at the start of this year, I caught a bad cold while stuck in an over crowded clinic filled with sick people while waiting for my doctor to just sign a single paper. I was stuck there for three hours and ended getting my Mom sick too. I had this cold for all of January and partly into February. Frankly, I'm impressed I didn't pick up something far worse, but potentially 1/12 of my year was now spent sick. Yikes...

This story is dedicated to that one month where I had the worst case of the cold I've had in years.


End file.
